


Teenage Psycho

by mzaddkzg



Category: No Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 11:20:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 22
Words: 20,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15885003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mzaddkzg/pseuds/mzaddkzg
Summary: "Journey into the mind of a psychopath killer, blood spiller, mentality much iller than you could ever imagine in your wildest dreams. You'll feel his pain in his silent screams."-D12





	1. Introduction

My name is Mason Daws. I'm 18 years old and I started high school a year and a half ago. Before high school, I was one of the most popular kids in school. I had a hot girlfriend, good school grades, a ton of friends and the honour of being captain of the football team.  
However. I wasn't your stereotypical popular jock that bullied people and had an attractive girlfriend who was a bitchy little airhead. In actuality, I was smart, friendly and down to earth, and my girlfriend was clever with a great personality.  
Oh, how things change...  
Now, here I am - sitting in the police station, my hair all matted and bloody, my arms covered in bruises, cuts and grazes, a missing tooth with a mouth full of blood and my wrists in handcuffs.  
Where's my friends you ask? Where's my parents? My sister? My brother? My girlfriend? Well, that's exactly what I'ma tell you now. So, take a seat - and a comfy one too - because this is gonna be a long, painful tale.  
I'm Mason Daws... and this is my story.


	2. Chapter 2

See the thing with me is, no matter how popular I was, how good my grades were, how amazing my friends were or how hot my girlfriend was, I was never quite happy. Never quite... satisfied.  
The main thing about me is, I've always had a terrible secret. One I could never tell anyone. Not my best-friends, not my girlfriend, not my parents, my brother, my sister. No-one. I mean, the secret's out now - which is precisely why I'm covered in blood and handcuffed in a police station but anyway, that'll come later on. This secret was so awful, so gut-wrenchingly terrible that I cannot remember a time I'd ever uttered it aloud. I just couldn't.  
Most people would've envied me in my younger years - having such a stereotypically 'perfect' life - but for  
me, it was never quite enough. Nothing was ever enough.  
The strange thing about me, that I never have and never would expect anyone to understand, is that I love pain. I love sadness. I love dystopian concepts.  
I'm not someone who - even as a child - has ever aspired to get good grades, have the perfect friends, land an expensive job, marry a beautiful woman and have amazing kids in a lovely house. No. Never.  
I've always wanted to suffer. I've always wanted myself and the others around me to live awful, pain-filled, gut-wrenching lives to the point where each and every one of us were suicidal in this fucked up world of corrupt societies. But that wasn't what I got.  
And I knew that was never going to be what I would get.  
Call me ungrateful, selfish, whatever you may. It's just the way my mind works.  
Growing up, my mom worked as a plastic surgeon - one of only three in the entire town of Isla Park - and my dad was a high-paid geologist - one of only seven in South Park. So, as you can imagine, we were pretty rich.  
My sister - who's 3 years older than me - was always nice to me, looked out for me and cherished me as her baby brother. We rarely fought and she always listened to me and did her best to be supportive in every case she could. Ugh.  
My brother - who's 10 years younger than me - was always the adorable kid who did silly things and made everyone laugh and smile. He always looked up to me like a sort of role model and every day he would tell me he was aspiring to be like me when he was older. Ugh.  
Most would label me as 'selfish' or 'insensitive' - saying  
I should 'think myself lucky' or 'be proud of what I have'. Fuck no. I've never been sure why - and I'm still not sure to this day - but I've always wanted a shitter life. Always.  
However, up until high school, I managed to stick it out. I know it sounds very backwards, but everyday I'd have to go to school - where I got amazing grades and everyone loved me - and have to plaster on a fake smile, simply because this was not the life I wanted. It never has been and never was. Then, I'd go home every single night, to my loving parents and siblings and eat well cooked meals and have heart-warming conversations with them. Then often, I'd go see my amazing, beautiful, loyal girlfriend or hilarious, kind-hearted true friends and spend time with them. Sickening.  
How I managed to keep all of it inside me and not burst into flames every single day I have no idea, but I did it nonetheless. And all the pent-up resentment I held onto finally exposed itself come the first year of high school. I remember it well - the first day I flipped. I remember every single minor detail - including what socks I was wearing, believe it or not.  
It was the 19th of October - just over a month into the school year. I was 16. High school was going swimmingly, my girlfriend and I had just celebrated our 5 year anniversary, my best-friends were still around, my grades were higher than a stoner on a bong and my family were still rich and happy. Perfect right? Wrong.  
On this specific date (19/10), I totally flipped out at school. There was a new kid in town and he just joined our high school. It was his first day - a monday. I walked into the cafeteria at lunch with my 3 best-friends to see this new kid trying to hold my girlfriend by her waist and blatantly chat her up/flirt with her. Though I hated how happy the girl made me and how happy I made her, and I basically didn't wanna be with her because I'd rather've been depressed and lonely, this made me see red. Without a second thought, I charged at the boy, threw him to the ground, sat on his chest and punched and elbowed him in his face repeatedly. After my girlfriend, my three best-friends and two teachers finally managed to drag me off of him, an ambulance had to be called. Turns out, I fractured his nose, split several parts of his brace, knocked his tooth out and blackened both his eyes. Needless to say, I landed myself in detention. And was suspended for the rest of the school week.  
The fact that everything was going so well was making me physically sick to my stomach and that little outburst with the new kid (who never returned by the way) made me feel 1000 times better. It was like my true, angry, depressed, fucked up self was finally unleashed, and believe me, that taste of adrenaline was like a drug. Because after that day, when I got a taste, I knew my life was going to change forever.  
A couple of days after I beat the new kid up, the urge to hurt someone again returned. It didn't matter who it was or what it was I was going to do, but I just needed to.  
So I did exactly that. At 8am on thursday morning, my dad was in the shower and my mom and 19 year old sister were in their rooms doing their makeup. My little brother was watching cartoons in the lounge downstairs... on his own. I left my bedroom and headed toward the staircase. I walked slowly down the stairs and I remember feeling like a walking corpse. I just didn't feel very... alive.  
I walked up to the couch where my 6 year old brother sat with his back to me as a colourful, loud cartoon played from the TV before him. He sat, mesmerised, staring at the screen, giggling jovially now and then. I crept up behind him and placed my hand over his mouth, the other across his chest.  
"Make a noise and I'll make sure you regret it." I hissed. This was thrilling, I'd never felt so dangerous or threatening in my whole entire life. It was such a rush. His little heart pounded against his chest and I felt it in my forearm. His short, quick breaths made my palm sweaty as he nodded his head, fearfully. I walked to the front of the couch and knelt before him. "Now, listen to me very carefully, Matthew." I said, in a low tone. He nodded, clearly still afraid to speak. "I want you to come to the kitchen with me. We're gonna play a game but you must promise to be silent the entire time. Ok?" I spoke to him like any normal person would speak to a 6 year old, just to ensure I had his trust. He nodded, smiling slightly. "Good boy. Come." I stood up to my regular 6ft height and extended my hand. He pushed his small body off the couch and took my hand as I lead him into the kitchen.  
I grabbed a chair from the kitchen table and placed it in front of the empty sink. No-one has had breakfast yet, so no dishes had been used/thrown in the sink.  
"Stand on it." I ordered, pointing at the chair. My brother obeyed and clambered onto it, standing up and staring at me, intriguingly.  
"Ok. Here's how the game works. I'm gonna turn both the taps on, and we gotta see who can hold their hand under their tap for the longest." I explained in a quiet voice. He nodded, a tiny smile visible on his baby pink lips.  
I turned both taps on and stood by the side labelled with blue on it, leaving my younger brother with the red side.  
"Ready?" I asked, the taps running full force before our faces. He nodded, rapidly. "Three.... two... one... go!" I said, as we simultaneously forced our hands under the taps. My hands got slightly cold but I watched him carefully as the steaming water came into contact with his tiny hands. He was only 6, after all. I watched as he bit his lip so hard he drew blood, and tears fell from his midnight blue eyes, my lips curving into a psychotic smile as his skin begun to sizzle.


	3. Chapter 3

My brothers’ skin was horribly burnt all over his hands and I must admit, I felt not one tiny sensation of remorse whilst I stared at his tiny frazzled fingers. Once he finally gave in and yanked his hands away, they were redder than you'd think was possible for human skin. Gotta give it to the kid though, he didn't make a sound whilst we 'played the game'.  
"So, what are you gonna say if mommy and daddy ask what happened?" I asked, squatting in front of my brother in his bedroom later that same morning.  
"I-I accidentally turned the hot tap instead of cold." he recited, perfectly, his head hung.  
My lips curved into a smile. "Perfect."  
"Matthew, honey! Time to go!" My mom yelled, knocking on his door. "Mason, what are you doing in here?" she asked me as she entered the bedroom.  
"Oh, nothing. Just helping him choose an outfit." I lied, smiling sweetly.  
She narrowed her eyes. "Well the school bus comes in 6 minutes so you'd better get your ass moving." she scolded as I left the room.  
Whilst I was walking down the hallway to my own room, I heard her gasp/scream. "Matthew, what happened to your hands?!"  
I couldn't hold back my large grin as I heard him recite his 'wrong tap' lie for the 14th time this morning.  
———  
"Good morning baby, I missed you." my girlfriend cooed as she sat beside me on the bus and planted a bright pink lipstick kiss on my right cheek.  
"Morning." I mumbled.  
"What's wrong, sweetie?" she fluttered her stupidly long eyelashes and I swear I just wanted to rip them off and throw them out the bus window.  
"N-nothing. I missed you too." I lied, monotonously, focusing on the passing streets and hoping the journey would hurry along so I could get to my first class that she wasn't in.  
We got to school a little early and she hadn't let go of my arm yet. Some days she was extra annoying. Too clingy. Too touchy-feely. Too PDA. Too alive. My first class was math, hers was food tech and she started rambling about how she was having to make a particular food then taste it herself or some shit. I really didn't care.  
That was until my mind started wandering and I had a brilliant idea. A grin danced across my face as I started devising another devious plan in my head. It had been just over an hour since I put my little brother through the torture of scolding his hands but now I just had the burning desire to hurt someone else.  
And I knew just the guinea pig...  
"Mase, are you listening to me?!" she whined, stomping her little feet as she yanked on my arm.  
"Yes." I snapped, shaking her off.  
"Babe, are you sure you're ok? You seem... off. Distant." she sighed, flipping her straightened black hair over her shoulder.  
"I'll be fine, babygirl." I pulled her close, kissing the top of her head. "I'll be fine real soon..." I smirked into her hair, so she didn't notice.  
———  
"Miss Eldridge, we need you!" the stupid blonde bimbo screeched, running into our classroom with tears streaming down her face, taking her thick black mascara with them.  
"Amarah, I'm teaching right now what's wrong?" my teacher sighed.  
"Lila ate something during her cooking class and is having some sort of seizure! She's frothing at the mouth and you're the only teacher that came to mind who is medically qualified!" blondie spoke rapidly, it was cute how she acted like she cared about my girlfriend, when we all know she talks shit about her all the time.  
"Oh dear. Are you sure it's a seizure?" Miss questioned, putting the cap back on the board marker and setting it down on her desk.  
"I don't know I'm not a fricking doctor! Just hurry!" she exaggerated, moving her blonde curls out of her face as she fanned herself with her hands and hyperventilated. I was almost certain she was going to poke her eye out with those ridiculously long acrylic nails, and the thought made me smile, insanely.  
"O-ok. Class, I have to go I'll be back when I can be!" Miss announced, running out of the classroom with Amarah on her tail.  
The classroom immediately erupted into worried exchanges of 'oh my god' and 'I hope she's ok', whilst everyone started questioning the food and what may've caused the seizure.  
I smirked to myself, interlocking my fingers behind my head and resting my feet upon my desk. I was sitting right at the back at a desk with one of my best-friends opposite me.  
"Dude, aren't you concerned about your girlfriend?" the blonde, Noah, asked from across the table.  
"Huh? Oh. Uh, yeah of course I am, bro." I scoffed. I didn't sound believable but I wasn't too bothered about his opinions on my relationship. I wasn't bothered about anyone's opinions, to be frank.  
"You sure sound it." the blonde chuckled, whipping some tobacco and rolling papers out of his pocket. "Sup? You getting bored of her or something?" he asked, a filter sitting between his braced teeth.  
I stared out of the classroom door and into the hallway. "Yeah... you could say that."


	4. Chapter 4

For the rest of the week, my girlfriend Lila wasn't back at school. I couldn't be bothered to act like I cared and go to see her. She wouldn't make it anyway. I was surprised she'd even lasted a week after the large doses she ate.  
"Mason, can I talk to you?" one of my best-friends, a short redheaded boy, asked. We were sitting in the cafeteria on a table of 10 boys and 6 girls, the largest group in there.  
I nodded with a mouthful of pasta. "Sure." I stood up and followed him out of the cafeteria and out back where people snuck out to smoke. We both sparked up cigarettes.  
"What's up, Carts?" I asked, looking down at the 5ft4 kid that was my best-friend.  
He took a deep breath. "I don't want you to take this the wrong way..." he bit his lip.  
I dragged my smoke and raised my eyebrow as I exhaled. "What's wrong?"  
He finally released the grip his teeth had on his bottom lip. "I feel like you have something to do with Lila being hospitalised..." he eventually blurred out.  
I dropped my cigarette in shock, burning my finger. "W-what?!" I panicked, kneeling down to pick it back up.  
"I don't know why. You just seem too... chill, about the fact that she's on a drip and she's been in hospital since monday, and it's now friday." Carter said.  
I was stunned. Lost for words. Then, an idea danced across my mind. I relaxed my facial features, feeling myself remaining calm.  
"You know what... you're totally right." I said, softly.  
"I-I am?" he was taken aback by my sudden relaxation, and was clearly unsure of how to react to it.  
I nodded, inhaling my smoke. "I didn't have anything to do with hospitalising her, no of course not. I understand you had your suspicions, Carter, but I love h-"  
"You've been acting really weird lately." he cut in, blowing out some smoke.  
"E-excuse me?" I almost choked on my words, concern rising in my throat like bile. Why was he so adamant that he knew something?  
"You've been acting weird lately." he repeated, throwing the cigarette butt on the ground. "You've been more tense, almost... paranoid. You seem kinda... on edge. Like something's playing on your mind." he explained.  
Fuck. Why was that all so accurate?  
"Ok, ok. Listen." I put my hands up, defensively. "I'll admit, I've had quite a lot on my mind recently." I lied. "But it's difficult and long winded to explain. So, if you'd like, I can pick you up later and we'll go for a drive and talk about it?" I suggested with a weak, forced smile.  
Carter’s lips surprisingly turned and he actually smiled back.  
Suddenly, he hugged me. "We've been best-friends for 14 years, Mase. You can tell me anything and everything." he said, into my chest.  
I hugged him back with one arm, patting his back, very slowly, as I stared off into the distance, half-smirking. "Oh, I will... don't you worry..."  
———  
That evening at around 8pm, I drove to Carter’s house and picked him up.  
"So, what's going on?" he asked, after some silence - bar the music playing through the aux.  
"It's a long story. Can it wait until I park up?" I sighed, blowing some smoke out the open window.  
The short boy nodded. "Sure. Can you shut the window when you finish that?" he shuddered, pointing to the white cigarette between my fingers.  
I smirked to myself. "Why? You cold?" I asked.  
He nodded.  
We pulled up at a large mountain, the one that lead to West Park, and parked at a clearing that looked over our little town. I pulled up the hand brake and turned off the engine, leaving the barely audible music playing in the background, like a movie scene.  
I unzipped my winter coat and removed it. Then, I took off my jumper and held it toward Carter.  
"Thanks, bro. Appreciate it." he smiled, taking the grey fabric from my hand.  
I watched as he pulled it over his big red curls.  
"So, what's going on with you, huh? Remember you can tell me anything." Carter reassured.  
I nodded. "But first..." I mumbled, reaching into the backseat and retrieving a small glass bottle with no label or writing on it. "Pass me your hand, like with the sleeve over it." I ordered. He looked confused but obeyed my command, nevertheless. I dabbed some of the liquid onto my jumper sleeve, sending it a darker shade of grey.  
"What is it?" he asked, looking up at me with those large green eyes of his.  
"My new aftershave." I glanced at him. "You like it?" I asked, gesturing for him to smell it. I watched with anticipation as he brought his hand to his face, inhaling the sleeve, hard.  
"Yeah, it's..." he trailed off. "W-woah, I feel... funny." he breathed, his body slowly going limp and his eyelids fluttering. "What's... happen... ing to... me?" he choked out as I could see his vision was beginning to blur.  
"Sorry, Carter. I can't have a smart cookie like you on the scene. You already know too much for my liking." I said, monotonously, as I lifted his hand back to his face and pushed it against his nose - he was too weak to fight back. Then, he blacked out.  
\------  
When he woke up, he lifted his head, his clouded over green eyes staring at me, like a dirty lake full of algae. His hands were restricted and... you could say his speech was too. He struggled and panicked as he shook his arms, violently, his muffled screams almost inaudible.  
"Don't try too hard to scream. You have nice lips. Wouldn't want to split the stitches and lose them..." I said, blankly. His eyes widened and almost immediately after, they welled up. A single tear fell from his big eye and slipped down his pink cheek, smearing a blood stain that was previously marked there.  
"So, here we are, kid." I said, nodding my head slowly as I sat on the ground before him, my back resting against the tree opposite the one he was tied to. I had a bottle in my right hand and took large gulps at a time from it. More tears fell as he silently begged for freedom or answers - or both.  
"I'm presuming you would like answers - answers as to why your super best-friend of many years has knocked you out with chloroform then sewn your mouth shut and tied you to a tree?" I suggested. He nodded, rapidly, tears now streaming from his eyes.  
"Well, you see my dear Lawson... I have a terrible secret that I am considering revealing to you. Would you... like to know it?" I asked, tilting my head.  
Though he looked skeptical, the redhead nodded slowly.  
"Actually, I have several secrets. Would you like to know... all of them?" I teased, trying my hardest to savour the torture I was putting this boy through.  
He furrowed his eyebrows and nodded slowly again.  
"Well that's too bad. I'm here to tell you one secret and one secret only." I snapped. "So... you were right. I did have something to do with Lila’s death."  
Though it was obvious to me that he knew, his eyes widened and I could see the genuine worry and shock in his expression.  
"And you know what else...?" I asked, quietly, crawling over to him on my hands and knees and leaning forward so he could feel my breath on his neck. I saw goosebumps form on his pale skin. He hummed a shaky hum, indicating his curiosity and worry.  
I chuckled, very lightly, then moved so my lips were almost brushing against his ear. "You're next, sugarplum..."


	5. Chapter 5

That night, I got home at around 11pm. I went straight to my room, shut the door, got changed and ready for bed then lay down. I was exhausted. I could've fell to sleep almost instantly if my phone didn't start ringing obnoxiously loudly right beside my head.  
"Hello?" I answered, not recognising the phone number that popped up.  
"Mason, dear. Please for the love of God tell me you're with my Carter." it was his mother. I knew that ridiculous jersey accent anywhere. Her voice was croaky, shaky, almost as if she had been - or was - crying.  
"No, Gladys, sorry." I dismissed, as bluntly as I could. "Why?" I added to avoid raising her suspicions.  
"H-he hasn't come home, Mase. Do you know where he is? Any idea at all where he could be?" she begged.  
Yeah, I took him to a cliff clearing, knocked him out with chloroform then sewed his mouth shut and tied him to a tree before I left him for dead.  
"No." I lied.  
"Are you sure?" she continued. I let out an audible sigh, resting my head in my hand whilst my other hand held my phone to my ear. "Anyone he could be with? Any of the other boys or just anything?" she pleaded, tears now completely audible in her tone.  
I exhaled. "Ummmm..." I pretended like I was thinking genuinely when really I already had a complete excuse made up. "He started seeing this girl recently-"  
"Who?!" she demanded.  
"This Alicia chick in our math class." I told her.  
She gasped. "The one that used to be homeschooled?!" she almost yelled.  
"Uh-huh, that's the one."  
"GERALD WHATS THAT JONES MAN'S PHONE NUMBER?!l she yelled down the phone, forcing me to move it away from my ear. "Thank you for your help. And please... let me know if you hear anything." she sniffled.  
"Of course, Mrs Lawson. You get some rest now." I smirked to myself, before we said our goodbyes and hung up.  
I rolled my eyes then switched off my lamp and fell straight into a peaceful sleep.  
\------  
The following day at school, everyone was constantly coming up to me asking how Lila was and asking if I was alright due to the Carter situation. If I'm being honest, every time one of those names left someone's mouth in my presence, I just wanted to slap the shit out of them. Lila seriously needed to die quicker.  
There was only one conversation that really sparked my interest, leaving me eavesdropping on two girls by their lockers.  
"Well, the police showed up to Rebecca's house last night and asked to question her." the first girl said, in a low voice. This sentence made my ears prick up and I hid behind a corner whilst I listened to the girls converse. This girl was one of Rebecca's best-friends - Natasha, I think her name was. She had bright red hair which was wavy and went all the way down to her ass. She also had freckles and stunning blue eyes and she was around the same height as me.  
"Why? What did they say to her?" the other girl - Rebecca's other best-friend, Jules, asked. Her green eyes were wide with interest and fascination as she looked up at her best-friend, with anticipation. Her hair was bleach blonde and quite curly, but below shoulder length. She was tiny in comparison to Natasha and - with the fact that Natasha was tall with blue eyes and Jules was short with green eyes - they reminded me a lot of Carter and I.  
"I'm not sure. Look." Natasha said, showing Jules her phone. "She texted me at 8pm saying 'wtf the police are at my house.' so I replied like 'what why?' and she said 'idk they said they wanna question me' so I said 'what about' and she said 'apparently Carter’s gone missing how do they even know he and I have been seeing eachother?' so I was all like 'idk call me after they question you' and she said she would but she never did and she hasn't spoken to anyone since." Natasha explained.  
"So, she's basically a suspect for the disappearance of Carter?" Jules blinked. Natasha nodded, flipping her long red locks over her shoulder.  
"Girls! Get to class!" a passing teacher scolded.


	6. Chapter 6

That evening when I returned from school I figured I'd better take it a little slower with my crimes. My best-friend and girlfriend had both been the centre of attention recently and everyone knew that I was the main thing those two had in common, making me the lead suspect in both instances. Before I got too paranoid, I decided to tell myself I'd need to calm down and wait a while before making my next move - or my next kill. So, who better to take it out on than myself?  
So I did exactly that. At 7pm, my parents were getting ready in their room for their date night and my brother was playing with toys in his room. My sister was out with her friends until late that night.  
I left my bedroom and headed across the hall to the bathroom, ensuring everyone was occupied. I locked the door behind me and turned the shower on so I didn't appear suspicious. Opening the cupboard above the sink, I started to rummage around - trying to avoid looking at myself in the mirror in front of me - and retrieved my razor, taking it apart and removing the long, silver blade from the middle section. My eyes glistened and watered with awe as I watched it shine in the bright bathroom light.  
Unable to wait a second longer, I placed the cold metal against my forearm and dragged it across in a neat, straight line. I'd done this before but not for a long while and - let me tell you - there's no feeling like it. The insane adrenaline rush, the tiny feeling of dizziness in the sides of your head, the racing heart beat you feel pounding against your chest like it's begging to be free. There's a tingling sensation when the cut begins to form. It's kind of like a buzzing feeling, which is difficult to describe if you've never experienced it yourself. One cut and I almost felt addicted again already.  
It hurts, but pain is good, right? Pain is good. It's what makes us human.  
Without a moment to spare, I dove right back in, making red lines here and there and subconsciously smiling to myself as I watched the crimson liquid pour from my wrists at alarming amounts. I'd finally found an inch of happiness. I lifted my wrist up, inhaling the scent of my own blood. It didn't smell as good as my girlfriend's or my best-friend's... but it was good. I hesitated for a moment, watching as the deep red liquid ran down my arm and toward my body. If I had a shirt on, it would've been dripped on. I stared at the blood, then stuck my tongue out and licked up as much of it as I could, swallowing the red metal-flavoured substance. I exhaled in pleasure and finished cleaning the rest of it up.  
So, now you know one of my horrible secrets. One of many. I have a rare condition called Renfield's syndrome. I am not a cannibal, I do not eat people and I never have, but I drink blood. I don't need it to stay alive but I would prefer it. Kind of like an addiction. An obsession. An abnormality.  
After I bandaged my wrist, I looked up at myself in the glossy mirror before me. I stared at my reflection, studying my dark blue eyes, my tanned complexion, my structured cheekbones, long nose, the bits of blood around my plump lips... I'd changed a lot following the murders of my best-friend and girlfriend. It was visible in my features. My dark blue eyes had a more negative vibe whirling around in them, my skin wasn't as tanned as it once was, my plump lips were dry and cracked, making the blood from my arm sting at the cuts.  
I looked like I was ready for Halloween, with fake blood dancing around the corners of my lips and dribbling down my chin. I wiped my mouth on the back of my wrist. Then, as I stared at my own reflection, something came over me. I don't know how to explain it. A wave of something I'd never felt before just seared through me and I felt the need to just- smash, crack. I'd punched the mirror at full force.  
I stared down at the shattered pieces, on the counter top, floor and in the sink, my knuckles now bleeding, too. My eyes met a particularly large piece and I looked at myself in it. My dark eyes were wide with some sort of new found feeling and my large, bloody lips curved into a large grin which I didn't even realise was present.  
My mom's shrill shrieks wailed through the house as she pounded on the bathroom door to see if I was ok.  
"Mason, my baby! What was that noise?! Are you ok, honey, are you alright?!" she called, over and over again, banging repeatedly on the door and jiggling the handle.  
I tuned back into reality and turned to look at the blank white door, listening as she banged on it, relentlessly, panicking to know if I was alright.  
With my eyes fixated on the door, my devilish smile was still present as I nodded, slowly. "Never been better..."


	7. Chapter 7

About two weeks later, I woke up in the morning to my mother screaming louder than I thought humanly possible. It was a blood-curling scream, which echoed throughout the house and I could've sworn it shook my walls. Out of shock, I fell out of bed and hit my head on the ground.  
"Fuck." I groaned, getting up and rubbing it, hard.  
I hurried out of my bedroom to see my dad on the phone and my mom unconscious on the landing outside of my sister's room.  
"What the fuck is going on?" I asked.  
My dad held a finger up to me, indicating for me to hold on for a second. I noticed how he was pale and beads of sweat had formed on his large forehead. He noticed too as he dabbed at them and breathed, heavily in and out.  
"Y-yeah, hello? I-I need an ambulance and the police." he stammered down the phone. I stood staring at him, searching for answers in what I could hear of the call.  
"My-my wife just passed out... ou-our daughter is d-dead..." he said, almost breathlessly.  
My eyes widened and my heart pounded at the inside of my chest, as if it was begging to be let out again. Half of me was broken, damaged. But I knew that half of me was all just a sharade, a façade. I knew I didn't really care. I never did. Well, I cared about her, but... fuck it. I can't explain the way my mind works.  
I was snapped out of my thoughts when paramedics barged into my house at once. It was like a movie, I remember it all vividly. It all happened in slow motion. My mom was placed on a stretcher and carried away, my dad went in the ambulance with her and said something to me about taking off school and babysitting. My younger brother approached me, with the same fearsome look in his eyes that he'd had since the day I forced him to burn his hands. Though there was so much raucous and corruption in my house at that point in time, everything was silent to me. Nevertheless, when my brother approached me, tears streaming from his deep blue eyes as he wiped his runny nose on the back of pyjama top sleeve, his innocent voice was all I heard.  
"I-I'm scared." he admitted, gently tugging on my shirt. I looked down at him as he stared up into my eyes. I wrapped my arm around him and pulled him close to me, his head burying in my ribs. "Me too, bro... me too."  
Before the forensic scientists and police officers turned up, I decided to take this as an opportunity to investigate what happened to my sister. I told my brother to get to his room and stay there until I said otherwise. He nodded and obeyed, running into his room and shutting the door behind him.  
Samantha’s room - which was supposed to be painted white and lilac - was covered in blood. Some had stained the carpet, some had stained the walls and the rest was on her wardrobe and bed sheets. I remember looking down and seeing body lying middle of the room, bloody and still. And by body... I'm only referring to her torso.  
I walked over to it, slowly, bending down on one knee and draping my elbow over the other knee. I touched the torso, which was a funny colour. It was shade of pale pink with red stains on it, like an uncooked chicken that was still bloody. I narrowed my eyes as I tried to process where the rest of her body had gotten to. I stood back up to my normal height and looked around the room. Immediately, I spotted her amputated left arm - lying on her bed in a pool of blood - the silver bracelet my mom bought her 9 years prior was still attached to her wrist. I couldn't see her legs or head anywhere, but what I did notice was the entire wall on the right-hand side of her room was covered in writing. Bloody writing.  
The writing read "You provoked this. You make me stronger each time you do this." in huge letters. I walked over to it and ran my finger over "each". It smudged, but hardly at all, indicating it was semi-fresh. Though the entire situation was gory and unexpected, my main emotion that was dominant in my body was confusion. Had someone broken into my house? Why didn't I hear anything? Why hadn't my brother or parents noticed or heard anything? I had so many questions but my varied thoughts were interrupted by a stench filling my nostrils. I mean, the room didn't exactly smell like a flower bed as it was, but this smell was more dominant in the air than the overall one. I gagged, but followed the odour, nevertheless, in hope it would lead me to some answers.  
And boy, was I right.  
I was lead toward the wardrobe which was a built in one. Not quite walk-in, but you could at least stand in there. Or even hide, if needed.  
I pulled the sliding door across and had to hold down my stomach at the vile stench that left the closet and danced around my nostrils like children in a playground. I lifted the collar of my t-shirt over my nose and bent down to move some shoe boxes etc. out of the way. Then, I saw it. My sister's decapitated head. Her eyes were still open, wide in shock horror. Her complexion was paler than you'd think possible and her widened eyes were bloodshot. Blood covered the entirety of the wardrobe floor and it was almost unrealistic how much there was. Her hair was a mess and some chunks had been pulled out and left on the floor beside her head.  
I couldn't wrap my head around the situation. Who would do such a thing? Why would they do it? What was their MO?  
I remember that day well. Perfectly actually. Any sane person would've entered that room and gasped, screamed, fainted or even vomited. But that's the thing with me... I'm not sane.


	8. Chapter 8

That entire day was prolonged and boring. I just sat at home doing nothing all day, whilst I 'babysat'. At around 6pm, I'd fallen asleep on the couch whilst my little brother played with his toys in front of the TV.  
"Mason!" I awoke to my dad in my face. He looked real rough.  
"Y-yeah?" I blinked, rubbing my eyes.  
My dad sighed, perching on the couch that I was still lying on. "I know it's hard. What with your girlfriend, then best-friend and now sister. But you fell asleep babysitting and Matthew fell downstairs and hurt his arm. Seems pretty bad so I'm gonna drive him to A&E to get it checked out." he explained.  
"I'm sorry, I'm just exhausted, ya know?" I milked it.  
My dad forced a weak smile. "I know." he patted my back and stood up.  
"Where's mom?" I sat up.  
"Staying in hospital on watch. Think she got a concussion when she fainted." he said. I nodded and, before I knew it, they'd left.  
Later that night at around midnight, I lay awake staring at the ceiling when I heard keys in the front door lock downstairs. The door opened and shut, my dad hushing my brother.  
"I'm awake!" I yelled down to them.  
"Oh, hello son!" my dad called back. "Matthew, go say goodnight to your brother then get some rest." I heard him saying.  
Matthew's small feet bounced up the carpeted stairs and he knocked, lightly, on my door. "Come in." I sat up, swinging my legs over so they were planted on the ground. He walked in, his arm in some sort of support cast, his eyes tired.  
"How you feeling, bud?" I smiled, weakly. He stared at me from the doorway, I could sense his fear. "Matthew, what's wrong?" I asked, standing up and walking over to him. I squatted so I was at his level and he stared me directly in my eyeballs.  
"I-I'm scared of you..." he whispered, his voice shaky.  
"W-why?" I panicked, for some reason thinking he knew about what I did to Lila and Carter. Nah. Impossible. The kid's only 6, what was I thinking?  
"You... you hurt me, Mason." he trembled.  
What was he talking about? The time I burnt his hands? That's scarred him to feel scared of me forever? I opened my mouth to speak, but I didn't know what to say and he beat me to it anyway.  
"W-why did you hurt my arm?" he asked.  
My eyes widened. I was asleep when he fell down the stairs? That wasn't my fault? "I fell asleep when you fe-"  
"I didn't fall downstairs." he cut in, a single tear slipping down his cheek.  
"Then... what did you do?"  
"You pushed me..."  
"W-what? Matthew, when I fell asleep you were playing with your toys, then I woke up and dad was home and your arm was hurt."  
"No... no." he whispered. "I was playing with my toys and you told me to follow you. So I did. Then, at the top of the stairs, you told me to close my eyes, no peeking. Then, you pushed me. It's fractured." he lifted up his right arm. "I didn't tell dad because you're my brother and I wanna be just like you when I'm bigger. If you burnt my hands and fractured my arm, I know you must've had a good reason."  
I was stunned. Why was he lying like that? That never happened. "That never happened, Matthew." I said, sternly.  
He shook his head, rapidly. "No, no, no, no! Yes it did!" he cried.  
"I-I..."  
"Before you pushed me, you mumbled something about joining Carter and Lila. What does that mean, Mason...?" he looked up at me, blinking away tears.   
I couldn't answer, I was too shocked. "Mason." he tugged at my shirt. "What does it mean? Where are Lila and Carter? Are they flying with the angels?" he sobbed, begging for a reply.  
As if on cue, my phone started ringing. Caller ID: Lila’s Mom.


	9. Chapter 9

I decided I'd have to sleep on what my brother accused me of. Though he seemed very adamant that he was telling the truth, I found much difficulty in trying to believe him. We didn't speak about it ever again after that night he returned from hospital and sometimes I wish we did. Nevertheless, I decided to go see my mom 3 days later. I was almost certain she was on suicide watch because her concussion - if she even had one - wouldn't still be affecting her 4 days later. She only fucking fainted.  
I woke up at around 11am and showered and got dressed. My brother was at our grandparents house and I think my dad was still asleep. He must've been exhausted spending so many hours at the hospital with my mom since Samantha died. God, what an attention whore.  
I pulled on my trainers and headed down the hallway to let my dad know I was leaving. As I got within a metre of the closed bedroom door, a familiar smell filled my nostrils. I panicked a little, but tried to contain it. I exhaled, deeply, and pushed open the door. There, on the bed, was my dad's lifeless body. He was wearing his nightwear - a vest and some boxer shorts - and he was really bloody. There was a huge hole in his cut open vest and it allowed me to see the huge gash that had been made in his ribcage. Whoever had done this had sliced him open.  
The second extremely strange thing I noticed was a bowl on the floor beside the bed. It was quite large - like a soup bowl for a large portion - and I recognised it as one of my mom's favourites. I walked slowly over to the bed and noticed it was stained, like someone had made tomato soup and finished it, but there was still red liquid remains in the bottom. But I wasn't stupid. And this was most definitely not soup. I bent down to pick it up and further examine it. Of course. It was blood.  
I looked at my dad's pale body and noticed there was a piece of paper jammed under his leg. I placed the soup bowl on the bedside table and carefully slipped the paper from under him.  
"You are only making this more bad for yourself. Stop whilst you can, Daws." it read, in scrawled handwriting. Underneath the word 'stop' was a red stain. More blood.  
I re-read the note multiple times but couldn't comprehend what it meant. What was I doing wrong? Why was I being held responsible for someone killing my family off? The only thing than sprang to mind was what was written in my sister's blood on her bedroom wall. I remembered I took a picture of it. I pulled my phone out of my trackpants pocket and searched for the photo. It read "You provoked this. You make me stronger each time you do this." What could this mean? What could both notes mean? All I could instigate was that the person who murdered my sister during her sleep was the same person who murdered my father in his.  
\------  
For the following hour, I just panicked and tried to process what the fuck was going on. What was I supposed to do? I think my mom would notice if she came home and my dad was not there. I worked myself up so much that I ended up running to the bathroom to throw up.  
By this time, it was already 1pm. My dad's body was still lifeless and I was still confused. I didn't really feel remorseful, but there wasn't a whole lot I could do. I decided I would have to hide my dad's body and hope for the best until I could work out who was murdering my family.  
An hour later, I was patting over the soil in my back garden with a spade as the washing machine whirred, full of bloody sheets and clothes. I wiped the sweat away from my forehead and then heard my doorbell ring, followed by 4 aggressive knocks on the front door. I hid the spade and walked through the kitchen and into the living room. Immediately, I spotted a cop car parked outside.  
"Shit, shit, shit, shit." I cursed, audibly, looking down at my muddy, bloody shirt. I ripped it off and tossed it under the sofa cushion, hoping for the best.  
I unlocked and opened the front door, shirtlessly greeting a male and a female officer. "Hello. Can I help you?" I asked, as nonchalantly as I possibly could.  
"Mr Mason R Daws?" the female asked.  
"Y-yes?" I stuttered. Damn it.  
"I'm Detective Adams and this is Detective Bradshaw." the lady said. "We need to ask you a few questions. May we... come in?" she asked.  
I gulped and nodded my head, stepping aside so they could enter.  
"I need to go put on a shirt. Please, sit." I gestured toward the sofa and armchair.  
They both tipped their hats at me and I disappeared upstairs, my heart racing as I threw on another shirt and hurried back to the living room.  
"Is anyone home?" Detective Bradshaw asked.  
"N-no." I said, sitting in the armchair as they sat side-by-side on the sofa.  
"Who do you live with?" Adams asked.  
"My parents and little brother. I did live with my sister but she, uh... passed. The-the other week." I explained.  
Adams nodded. "I'm sorry to hear. We are here to question you about two students who both attended your school." she informed.  
I nodded. "Who?"  
"Carter Lawson and Lila Pickens." Bradshaw said, making the hair on the back of my neck stand up, as if to attention.  
I swallowed the lump in my throat. "O-ok."  
"I don't want to alarm you but you are currently the main suspect for both of their incidents. Lila is only likely to live another couple of days after being poisoned in cooking class and Carter has been missing for several days now." Adams explained.  
"Suspect?" I choked out. "But why me?"  
"One is your best-friend, the other your girlfriend, correct?" Bradshaw furrowed his eyebrows.  
I nodded. "C-correct, yes." I seriously needed to stop stuttering.  
"Exactly. And Mrs Lawson was adamant that Carter said he was meeting you the night he went missing. Was this true?" Adams asked, as Bradshaw held his pen to his notepad.  
"I-I did see him on said night, y-yes." I stammered.  
"And where did you go?" Adams asked.  
"To the coffee shop on main street."  
"The Starbucks?"  
"Yes."  
"Did you drive?"  
"No, we walked."  
"And what time did you leave eachother?" Bradshaw asked.  
"Around 10:30, I believe." my lies were flowing smoothly now and my panic had reduced.  
"Ok. And Lila, what can you tell us about her?"


	10. Chapter 10

By the time I actually got to the hospital to visit my mom, it was 5pm. Not just because of the fact that my dad was brutally murdered the night before, this day was very memorable. I got the hospital and greeted my mom etc. She plastered on her fake smile but I knew deep down she was grieving for my sister and was angry at whoever had done such a savage thing to her. After about 20 minutes of pure talking, a small silence fell and I decided it was the appropriate time to tell her about the death of my father.  
"Hey, mom?" I rubbed the back of my neck, sitting beside her hospital bed in one of those daft armchairs that was about as comfortable as a bed of nails.  
She hummed in response as she turned her head away from the TV to look at me. It wasn't until this point that I noticed how truly awful she looked. She had definitely been losing sleep as her dark blue eyes were basically resting on top of her bags as if they were seats. Her skin was discoloured and her lips were dry, she looked almost as if she'd... given up.  
"Mason?" she snapped her fingers when I didn't reply.  
"Oh!" I jumped, shaking my head.  
"What is it, sweetie?" she tilted her head in curiosity.  
"I, uh, I have something to tell you..."  
She exhaled. "Me too..."  
"Y-you, ya do?" I looked at her.  
She nodded.  
"O-ok, you first." I nodded.  
She let go of a deep breath she'd been holding for god knows how long. "I think we need to get you some psychiatric help..." she pressed her lips together, awkwardly. My heart raced. God, what does she know, what does she know?  
"W-what... why?" I almost whispered.  
"You seem like you've got no personality anymore. You approach things with... less emphasis. Less... interest. I think you might be depressed." she suggested. Well no shit, mom. "But I mean, honey, no-one can blame you. I mean what with the disappearance of Carter, the death of Samantha, the hospitalising of Lila and I." she listed. "And now I have something else to drop on you." She admitted, sadly, hanging her head.  
"No, mom please! Everyone else is either dead or in pain. My sister's dead! My girlfriend's gonna be dead! My best-friend is more than likely dead! Y-you're my last hope, a-are you ok? Please tell me you're ok?!" I rambled, noticing my mom's eyes welling up.  
"M-Mason..." she sniffed, tears falling now from both of our eyes.  
"Mom, w-what is it?!" I demanded.  
"Mason, mommy has cancer..." she practically whispered. "I can't go through chemotherapy. I refuse." she bit her lip, visibly cringing at the salty sensation. I was lost for words. My mom has cancer? This couldn't be real. No way could-  
My thoughts were cut off by a blood-curling scream outside her room in the hallway. It was a lady, and her scream was followed by crying and indiscernible words. My mom and I exchanged confused and worried glances about the stranger and I stood up, walking over to the door as my mom sat up in bed. I pulled it open, my shaky hand rattling the doorknob. Once it was open fully, I saw a small woman with long black hair collapsing on the ground in a fit of tears. She had dark green eyes that were bloodshot and the tears falling from them were clumping her mascara. She was hysterical as she sobbed and sobbed, her ginger-bearded husband crying with her but attempting to remain strong as he caressed her hair and held her, tight.  
"M-Mrs Pickens..." I breathed, taking slow steps out of my mother's hospital room.  
The black haired woman turned to look at me and gasped, hurrying over and taking my hands in hers. "Oh, Mason! She's gone, Mason! Our little girl h-has gone!" she bawled. And for the first time in a long time, I actually felt remorseful.  
\------  
I sat on my own in the waiting room of the hospital. Thing is, I wasn't even waiting for anything. My thoughts flooded with the situation I was handling and I realised just how fucked up it was. I tried my best to work out who was brutally murdering my family members and why they were doing it, but I could only think it was down to Karma - someone was watching me.  
I killed Carter and Lila before my dad and Samantha were killed. But who? Who would know that? Who would be watching me? Essentially retaliating upon me? I'd no idea. At this point, everything was getting too out of hand and I was regretting quite a few of my actions.  
But I decided there was one thing I wanted to know - was Carter still alive?  
I hopped in my car and started my nervous journey to the cliff clearing, by the woods where I'd left my best-friend for dead. After turning off the car engine, I removed the keys and exhaled, deeply. Then, I stepped out of the car and walked, slowly and nervously toward the woods. My shaky hand held my iPhone torch, illuminating the path before me until trainers came into my view. I gulped and slowly raised the light up his legs, then torso, until his head/face was illuminated. The stitches on his lips had been popped open and dry blood had set all over his chin. It was clear to me that he'd given in and gone slightly insane, deciding to yell as a result.  
"You shouldn't be out here alone, you know." a deep voice said from about two metres away. "Especially at a crime scene where you're the suspect and the actual perpetrator." they added.  
"W-who the fuck is there?!" I panicked, shining my torch, frantically.  
The low voice chuckled, softly. "You really don't know?" they asked. I could almost hear the eyebrow raise in their voice.  
"N-no." I admitted.  
They sighed. "Ok, I'll give you a hint." they decided. "I have something to do with those notes left for you. I'm tall. About 6ft. I have black hair and dark blue eyes... and the biggest clue I can give you is I'm a psychotic maniac with homicidal tendencies." they said, their smile audible.  
"I-I..." I was lost for words but let's be honest - in actuality, what can you/do you say to that?  
"Lost for words, Mason?" they mocked, their voice remaining monotone the entire time.  
My jaw dropped. They basically just read my mind.  
"Yes I did." they said, blankly. "Still confused?" the blunt voice asked.  
I gulped. "Uh-huh, y-yeah..."  
"Pfft." they scoffed. "I'm you, stupid."


	11. Chapter 11

"What? I'm going insane. I'm going... insane." I whispered.  
"Going? You got there a few years back when you first tasted blood." the voice tssked.  
I stammered out indiscernibles, still not processing the situation. I averted my gaze to my bestfriend's lifeless, bloody body on the cold, hard ground.  
"Doesn't he look peaceful?" the voice that was supposedly 'me' sighed, contently.  
I stared at Carter. He didn't look peaceful at all. A blind man could see he'd died a slow, excruciating death. And part of me felt remorseful about that.. The other part of me - which I could supposedly hear speaking to me - felt happy. Proud.  
"Who's next on your kill spree then?" I was asked.  
I parted my lips, but no words came out. "Your mom? Brother? Neighbour? Classmate?" they listed.  
"I... I don't wanna kill anyone else." I mumbled.  
The voice laughed, mockingly and heartily. "Don't make me laugh."  
"W-what do you mean?" I stuttered.  
"You can't kill 4 people then decide you just wanna stop. You gotta keep going until you have no-one left. Unless you get caught first."  
"Pardon me?"  
"Am I speaking foreign?" the monotone voice remarked. "There's no going back now, Mason. It's too late."  
"No, I mean... I haven't killed 4 people. There's only Lila and Carter." I gulped, my throat dry.  
"Oh, Mason. Silly, innocent little Mason..." the voice chuckled, lightly. "Then, who on earth do you think was responsible for the deaths of your sister and father?" they hummed.  
"I-I... I did not kill my dad and sister!" I argued, fighting back tears.  
"Living in denial will only destroy you more and more, bit by bit, day by day..." they said... "and I'm taking over more and more each day."  
I was lost in thought for a second and then, suddenly, it was almost like something sparked in my brain. "W-what did you just say?" I asked.  
"I'm taking over more and more each day." they repeated, in the same blunt tone.  
"That's exactly what was written in blood on Samantha’s wall." I thought in my head.  
"I know. Because you wrote it." the voice informed. "Well, I did. But I'm you and you're me so you technically contributed to it."  
"I-I just... I don't understand." I cried, my voice croaky.  
"You killed your father. You killed your sister. You killed your bestfriend. You killed your girlfriend. You did it. It's on your conscience. And guess what I am?"  
"W-what...?"  
"Your motherfucking conscience. See you're that psychotic and fucked up that even your conscience can't tell you right from wrong."  
I pondered upon my thoughts. If I did kill my dad and sister, why don't I remember it?  
"Because you were asleep."  
"How is that possible? And stop reading my goddamned mind!"  
"I am your mind."  
"I am so fucked up..." I sighed, groaning.  
"I know you are. And do you know the one way you can fix this?" the voice asked, a smirk audible.  
"H-how?" I blinked away my tears.  
"By killing everyone else around you. Trust me, it's the only way."  
"But that's just-"  
"Do it."  
"But I'm sure-"  
"Do it."  
"Isn't there a-"  
"DO IT! DO IT! DO IT!" the voice chanted, making my head spin and causing a nauseous feeling to come across me.  
I slid my back down the tree I'd drank the bottle at opposite Carter the night I kidnapped him. I hit myself in the sides of my head repeatedly with my hands and screamed. "Stop it! Stop it! Go away, just leave me alone!" I pleaded. Then, I blacked out.  
I woke up some time later in my car. How I'd gotten there was beyond me and I had 19 missed calls from my grandpa and grandma's house phone. I panicked, checking the time and seeing it was already 9pm. I was supposed to pick Matthew up from their house at 6:30pm. I quickly turned my car on and sped off in the direction of my grandparents home. I made it there in 10 minutes and they questioned me so much, asking where I was and what I was doing because I'd worried them.  
After 15 minutes of discussion and babbling excuses, I had to carry my half-sleeping brother to the car and seatbelt him into the front seat.  
"Drive safe!" my grandma and grandpa called in unison, both waving from the front porch.  
Part the way home, Matthew stretched, yawned and sat up properly. "Are we going home?" he asked, in a small voice.  
I turned briefly to look at him and smiled. Then, I lightly slapped his knee and nodded. "Yeah, bud. We're goin' home."  
"Where's mommy?" he asked, staring up at me with his huge round eyes.  
I couldn't look at him, so I focussed on the road until I could think of an excuse. Suddenly, he squealed and burst into tears. Panicked, whilst still trying to hold the wheel, I jumped and kept moving my eyes from his to the road.  
"W-what?! What is it?!" I asked.  
"Y-you said mommy's gonna die!" he sobbed.  
"What?! No I didn't! Where did you get that idea from?!" I gasped.  
"Y-you j-just said it!" he bawled. "Y-you just said it in- in a sc-scary voice!"  
I was losing my fucking mind.  
"O-ok, j-just listen to me..." I breathed, trying to calm him down, whilst I drove down the dark roads. "Mommy is very sick right now, ok?" I explained, as lightly as I could. "A-and the doctors and nurses are gonna try help her as best as they can, alright?"  
Thankfully, he calmed down and nodded, breathing heavily from crying. "O-ok." he said.  
Finally, some peace and fucking qui-  
"Where's daddy?" he chimed in again. Fuck. I couldn't tell him dad was dead too. I can't even comprehend the situation of my sister and dad's deaths myself - never mind my 6 year old brother doing so. I didn't even know whether or not I was the perpetrator. So, I decided to straight up lie.  
"Daddy's gone on a business trip."  
"Where?"  
Why does this kid ask so many fucking questions?  
"Wisconsin."  
"Where's that?"  
"Far away."  
"Is he coming back?"  
"N- I mean... o-of course he is."


	12. Chapter 12

When Matthew and I finally got home, I was lucky he was asleep. I turned off the car engine, got out and went around the side to retrieve him from the passenger seat. I picked up his sleeping body and couldn't help but remember how peaceful Carter looked when he was dead. Maybe Matthew would too..  
The scary thing about my brother was that he looked exactly like me. We had the same jet black wavy hair, same big dark blue eyes, though mine appeared smaller as I got older, and the same facial features. He was also tall for his age - like me. I carried him inside and took him up to bed. When I'd gotten changed into my nightwear, I was heading downstairs to lock the front door and get a drink when someone knocked at the door. I set the glass down on the kitchen counter and went to answer it. I swung the door open and there stood...  
"Amarah?" I furrowed my eyebrows.  
"Mason, can we talk?" she sniffled, looking at the ground between us.  
"It's pretty late... what are you doing here at this time?" I asked, sceptical about letting her into my home.  
"Please? I really need to talk to you." she pleaded.  
I sighed and gave in, stepping aside as she entered the living room. She took off her big coat and, underneath, was wearing a plain pink t-shirt and black trackpants. She was also wearing black trainers, which she slipped off, leaving them by the door. Her big blonde curls were thrown up in a messy bun on top of her head and she wore no makeup for once in her life. I had to admit... she was a lot more naturally beautiful than anyone would expect her to be to say how much makeup she plastered on daily. She waved her hand in front of my face, our eyes basically in line as she was always on the tall side for a girl.  
"S-sorry. Uh, do you want a drink?" I offered, sheepishly.  
She nodded. "Something hot? A tea would be nice." she smiled, weakly.  
I nodded, gesturing for her to follow me into the kitchen.  
"Where is everyone?" she asked casually as she walked closely behind me.  
"My little brother's in bed and my dad's at the hospital staying with my mom." I lied.  
The tall blonde sat at the kitchen table as I filled the kettle and started boiling the water. "Oh. I'm sorry. Is she ok?" she asked, thoughtfully.  
"Not really she told me today she has cancer." I mumbled, my back to her.  
She gasped. "OMG! I am so sorry!"  
"Huh? Oh. Uh, it's ok. I didn't mean to sound so blunt, I'm just tired."  
After placing two teabags in two cups, I spun around with my back to the countertop and rested my palms on it. "So, what did you wanna talk about?" I asked, awkwardly.  
"Lila..." she breathed.  
I swallowed the lump in my throat and clenched my fists. "W-what about her?"  
"What do you mean 'what about her', Mason? She's dead." she said, harshly. I bit my lip and an awkward silence fell. "I-I'm sorry..." she whispered.  
I waved her off dismissively and she continued what she was going to tell me. "I came here because I think there's something you and I should look into..." she said, standing up and walking towards me. The kettle clicked, indicating the water was boiled, so I turned to pour it into the cups.  
"Like what?" I muttered, pouring the water.  
She exhaled deeply from behind me. "Mason... I think Lila was murdered." she stated. In shock, I dropped the kettle, knocked one of the cups off the counter, which smashed, and the boiling water from said cup spilt all over Amarah’s socks and trackpants. She winced in pain as she danced around the kitchen, trying to play off the burns.  
"S-sorry, you shocked me." I muttered, sucking my bottom lip.  
"It's ok. Could you lend me some socks and pants though?" she asked, her eyes watering from the pain.  
I nodded and gestured for her to follow me upstairs. We got to my room and she sat at the end of the bed as I turned my back to sift through my drawers for her required clothing. When I spun back around, she had on nothing but her pink shirt. Her wet trackpants and socks were on the ground beside her and I could see her black thong resting comfortably on her wide thighs. My jaw dropped and I gawped at her amazing curves and big thighs. She noticed this and started blushing. I walked, slowly, over to her, unable to avert my gaze to her face.  
"M-Mason, can I have the pants and socks?" she chuckled, nervously.  
I looked at her from head to toe. I placed my hands either side of her on the bed and leant forwards, so our faces were mere inches apart. "Mason... w-what are you doing?" she whispered, gulping audibly.  
I looked her all the way down again, in slow motion, running my tongue along my bottom lip. "Your body is... beautiful." I breathed.  
She blushed. "Th-thank you. But, Mase, this isn't right. Not today of all days. Lila died tod-"  
"Shhh..." I gently pushed my index finger against her plump, pink lips. She stopped speaking, immediately, clearly taken aback by the sudden contact. I pulled her bottom lip apart from her top one with my finger, slowly, inspecting her soft lips and how nice they looked. Without a second thought, I leaned in and kissed her. She was hesitant, but joined in after a few seconds.  
After a few minutes of making out, I'd ended up getting her on her back with me on top of her. Her amazing long legs were wrapped around my torso and things were getting heated. Lila was the last thing on both of our minds. Or, so I thought...  
"Mason..." Amarah pulled away from the kiss, breathing heavily. "W-we can't do this." she sighed. "It's just... not right." she went to sit up and push me off of her, but something came over me. I grabbed her by her slim throat and slammed her back down onto her back.  
She squealed and my other hand came flying down over her mouth. "Shut the fuck up..." I hissed, through gritted teeth. "...my brother is asleep."


	13. Chapter 13

I reached behind me, whilst still keeping her pinned down, and grabbed the socks I was supposed to give her from the edge of the bed. I skilfully managed to grab her wrist and tie it to the bedframe behind her head. Then, I copied the action with the other wrist. She struggled as much as she could until I stuffed her wet sock in her mouth, making her gag. I got up and shut my bedroom door, quietly, before walking back over to the bed and crawling on top of her.  
I brushed a loose curl out of her face and smirked to myself. "You're so beautiful, babygirl..." I breathed. Tears started falling from her green eyes as I brushed them away then leant down to remove the sock from her mouth. Before she could make a noise, I forcefully kissed her again. She tried to fight me off and resist but I was too strong for her and quickly dominated. She eventually gave into me, accepting her fate...  
I ripped her t-shirt off, unable to remove it due to her restrained wrists. She cried harder as I unclipped her bra and left it half-on for the same reason, shoving the sock back in her mouth to get her to shut up. Next, I shuffled down the bed and slipped her thong off and over her feet. I discarded it onto the ground before running my fingertips up the inside of her thigh. She squirmed and shook as more and more tears slipped down her structured cheeks. She begged me to stop but her voice was muffled like she was wearing that huge coat Noah always used to wear, so I could easily ignore her.  
\------  
I pulled my boxer shorts back on and pulled a shirt over my head. I sipped from the bottle of water on my bedside table and exhaled in pleasure. I looked at the naked mess on my bed. Amarah. She was sweaty and had red streaks down her face. Her hair was all over the place and her wrists were still retrained. I shook my head, then noticed the huge stain.  
"Oh, shittt." I whispered, putting the glass down.  
Between her legs was a large red patch mixed with white. I had to throw these out. There was no way such a stain would come out. Amarah muffled something and I ripped the sock out her mouth, so forcefully that I was surprised when a tooth didn't come flying out with it.  
"P-please, Mason!" she choked out her sobs. "Please, l-let me go a-a-and I won't say any-anything to an-anyone!" she begged.  
"Shut up, bitch. Do you think I'm fucking stupid?!" I slapped her across her face and she winced in pain.  
I left the room for a moment, then returned with the same blade I cut my wrists with. Her eyes widened at the sight of it and she panicked and trembled.  
"NO, PL-"  
I quickly stuffed her sock back in her mouth. "Didn't I tell you to keep that pretty little mouth shut, babygirl?" I battered my eyelashes. She nodded, slowly, her green eyes still streaming with tears.  
I climbed back onto the bed and started making short, deep cuts across her flat stomach and on the skin surrounding her rib cage. She struggled, shook, bounced and (muffled) screamed out in pain. She'd cried that much I was surprised she hadn't made herself vomit. When blood was pouring from each tiny wound I'd made, I ran my tongue along the blade and a look of horror spread across Amarah's face.  
I put the blade down and leant down to her perfect body. I ran my tongue all around her torso area, licking up every last bit of blood and swallowing it all, exhaling in pleasure. She looked down at me, her face showing just how terrified and shocked she was by my actions. I looked at her and smiled - my white teeth covered in red stains and my pouty lips dripping with the sweet red substance. When I saw just how horrified she was, I couldn't help but smile wider, almost ear to ear, then laugh, manically.  
She muffled something through her tears, so I removed the sock once again and sighed. "What now?!"  
"I-I... feel s-s-so, so... fain..." before she could say 'faint', she passed out.  
———  
It took me probably a lot longer than it should've to realise she died not fainted.  
She must've died from blood loss. Oh well, that was a whole 8 pints for me. I gulped down every bit of her blood that I could until she was pretty much empty.  
I went to the bathroom to wash my mouth, leaving her lifeless body on my bed for the time being. When I returned, a piece of paper had appeared in her hands. Words on the paper.  
"Damn. I don't think you know that you should stop. Despite being warned, you killed again. Soon, all will be revealed."


	14. Chapter 14

I still hadn't been back to school. I was having to take care of my younger brother but, due to being an honour student and exceeding in all my classes, the teachers apparently didn't appear to mind. However, time was passing painfully slowly, and I was already craving more blood. It was a Friday night, around 7pm. My brother was watching tv in the living room on the floor and I was laying across the couch, lazily. I'd just woken up after dropping to sleep briefly for ten minutes or so. I stared at my brother. I couldn't... could I?  
No. Not yet anyway. It would look too sketchy if my dad, sister and brother died in such a short amount of time. So, who? Who was to be my next victim?  
Whilst I pondered upon the thought, deciding who it would be, I hurried upstairs to my room to get my phone off charge. As I walked over to my beside table to grab it, I noticed something had been engraved into my wall, right between my bed and table. I moved my table out a little so I could read it. I knelt down and it said "Funny, really. The way you're sure you know what you're doing. Truthfully, you've got no goddamn idea whatsoever. And you should really listen.." I stumbled back, shocked and frightened. Before I panicked too much, I snapped a quick picture of the carvings before hurrying away.  
Unsure of what to do or how to react, I ran back down to the living room and sat back on the couch.  
"M-Matthew...?" I stammered, determined to know who was fucking with me and killing off my family.  
"Uh-huh?" he spun around, still sat on the floor, and faced me.  
"D-did you see anyone come in the house or hear anyone upstairs?" I gulped, scared shitless of what his answer may be.  
"When?" he tilted his head.  
"I fell asleep for about 10 minutes before I woke up and went to get my phone." I explained.  
"Ten minutes?" he blinked, blankly. I stared at him, indicating that I didn't understand. "You were asleep at least an hour. Then, you went upstairs and I heard scratching sounds like cat claws up a wall." he explained, my heart thudding and eyes widening. "Then, you came back downstairs and I asked what you were doing but you fell onto the couch and went straight back to sleep for another half hour or something." he told me.  
"I-I..." I was lost for words. I was sleepwalking? I was leaving myself these strange notes?  
This could only mean one thing... I was the one who killed my dad and sister. That voice I heard in the woods when I went to see Carter’s body was right all along.  
I stood up, my head suddenly spinning. What was happening to me? I suddenly felt the need for blood. It was a craving, like a cigarette. I didn't just want some, I needed some. I begun to panic and felt like I would faint if I didn't drink some blood ASAP. My eyes darted back and forth from my front door and my little brother. I groaned, loudly, and ran out of the door into the street. I didn't even have shoes on.  
By now, it was around half 7. I ran. I didn't know where. I didn't know why. In a sense, it was almost as if I wasn't in control of my body. I was just running with no motive or reasoning.  
I ran and I ran until I stepped on some broken glass down a backstreet somewhere. Being as I was only wearing socks, this fucking hurt. The excruciating pain of my foot being cut opened causing me to scream and cry at the top of my lungs. In a sudden flash of anger, I picked up a large piece of the what appeared to be broken bottle and dragged it through my forearm as hard as I could. Blood immediately poured from my arm and I felt faint very quickly.  
I reacted as fast as I could and licked and sucked up all the boy, swallowing as fast as I could. Though, it didn't help. I passed out almost right after.  
I woke up after god knows how long. It could've been 2 minutes, it could've been a day, it could've been an hour. Regardless, I sat up in the same place I'd passed out in. I rubbed my head and looked down at my bloody arm. It was an awful mess and the gash I'd cut was ridiculously wide. It would most definitely be infected if I didn't sort it out soon.  
My vision was moderately hazy but I looked around to try and work out where I was. It was still dark so I couldn't've been out for that long. As I was standing up, I grabbed a nearby trash can to help me gain my balance. But as I was hoisting myself back up onto my feet, I noticed something was written on the trash can in blood. It must've been my blood, right? Who's else would it have been?  
I blinked a few times and squinted my eyes, finally regaining a predominantly stable vision. It read "Doing all this makes it harder on yourself. Being as you don't want to listen, I'll let you work it all out on your own. Good luck with that though. That'll be lots of hard work for your fucked-up head though..." Once again, I took out my phone and took a picture of it, so I could try and work it out later on. I was so fucked up and these mysterious notes were confusing the hell out of me, not to mention scaring the shit out of me.


	15. Chapter 15

When I finally stumbled home, I entered my house at almost 10pm. How I'd been out of the house for two and a half hours was absolutely beyond me.  
"Matthew!" I called, entering the house. Silence. The tv was on but had tuned out and was just a bunch of black and white static. The living room lamp was on, like when I'd left. The house felt eerie. Like someone was here. Or no-one was...  
"Matthew!" I yelled again.  
I decided to try his bedroom. I pushed open his bedroom door, which was already open ajar, and walked in. The light was off but the small lamp on his bedside table was on. I looked around for him. Until I heard a gasp from the closet. I walked over, cautiously, and opened it. "Matthew? What are you doin' in here, kid?" I chuckled.  
He looked up at me with his huge blue eyes, fear visible in all his features. His face was pale, drained of colour, and he looked scared out of his little mind.  
"Come." I extended my hand for him. "What's up?" I asked, as he grabbed my hand and slowly and cautiously and stood up.  
"Y-you scared me again, Mason..." he whispered.  
"Because I just left? I'm sorry. I just-"  
"No because of what you just did to me." he interrupted, tears slipping from his eyes and down his cheeks.  
"W-what are you talking about, Matthew? I left the house and just got back a moment ago." I said.  
He shook his head, violently. "STOP! STOP IT, MASON! YOU'RE SCARING ME!" he suddenly screamed, bursting into tears and running over to his bed, scrambling underneath it before I could grab him.  
"Matthew! What is going on?!" I begged, lying on the floor and looking at him quivering under his bed.  
"N-no." he whimpered. "No..." he whispered to himself, exhaling deeply repeatedly.  
"What did I do to you, Matthew?" I asked, calmly.  
He sniffled and crawled out from under the bed. He stood up, as did I, and he lifted his t-shirt. I gasped and could've sworn I almost choked on my own air.  
All the way down his side were large gashed open cuts, trailing from his armpit to his hip bone. And there were words written in... pen? Amongst the mass of dried blood, I managed to work out what the pen said.  
"You're going to hurt your brother next. You don't want that, do you? Listen. Although you may think it's harmless killing one or two people, you don't realise how terribly hard it'll be to fucking get away with. But for you to be able to redeem yourself, really, you only really have one option. Work it out."  
"M-Matthew, who did this to you?" I asked, my voice cracking. He stared up at me, his bottom lip quivering. "WHO DID IT?!" I demanded.  
"YOU DID." he shouted. "YOU DID THIS TO ME!"


	16. Chapter 16

I took a photo of Matthew's side for further analysis. I then shooed him away to his bedroom and shut my door to sit down and work out what the fuck was going on.  
I set my phone down on my bed and sat down, copying down the notes onto a piece of paper. I stared at the photos for a while longer until I realised that - in every single note - certain letters had been drawn darker than others. Whether that be a deeper cut or just thicker lines of blood/pen, some were most definitely darker, almost real life bold.  
Maybe it was a code?  
I copied down the first note.  
You provoked this. You make me stronger each time you do this.  
Then I copied down the letters that had been painted thicker with my sister's blood.  
"u o y m a i"  
Uoyami? What the fuck was that? It made no sense. I decided to try and write it upside down. Nothing. I unscrambled the letters. Nothing. Then I decided to try... backwards?  
"i a m y o u"  
"I... am... you." I read aloud. "I am you." I repeated. This basically confirmed the fact that the voice in my head I'd conversed with was much more than just a voice...  
I moved onto the second one. The one which has been left by my dad's body.  
You are only making this more bad for yourself. Stop whilst you still can, Daws.  
I wrote down the letters which the note by my dad had highlighted and tried to work it out.  
r e r e d r u m  
I switched it around again, hoping for the best. "Murderer..." I whispered. "Murderer."  
I started the third one. The one from the night of Amarah.  
Damn. I don't think you know that you should stop. Despite being warned, you killed again. Soon, will be revealed.  
Again, I wrote out the darker letters.  
d i d u o y t a h w k o o l  
"Look... wh... whaty... y-you did."  
The following one was from the wall.  
f l e s r u o y o t r e g n a d a e r a u o y  
I flipped it backwards and tried to make sense of it.  
"Y... y o u a r e a d a n g e r t o y o u r s e l f." I spelt out. "You... area... no. Are a. You are a... danger to... yourself."  
These just got scarier and scarier as I went along. Next, I found the photo of the note on the trash can.  
"Doing all this makes it harder on yourself. Being as you don't want to listen, I'll let you work it all out on your own. Good luck with that though. That'll be lots of hard work for your fucked up head though."  
The darker letters were harder to spot in this one. But I eventually decoded the letters.  
d a e d e b n o o s l l i w n w o t e l o h w e h t  
This one physically sent shivers down my spine. The whole town will be dead soon. I felt physically sick after that one and almost couldn't continue. But I had one left. And I needed answers.  
Finally, I got to the note Matthew had written on his skin.  
You're going to hurt your brother next. You don't want that, do you? Listen. Although you may think it's harmless killing one or two people, you don't realise how terribly hard it'll be to fucking get away with. But for you to be able to redeem yourself, really, you only really have one option. Work it out.  
This one took slightly longer, but the bolder letters were:  
e t a l o o t s i t i e r o f e b f l e s r u o y l l i k  
I switched it back to front and resulted with...  
"Kill... your... self be... fore... it is tool... ate." I mumbled. "Kill yourself before it is too late."


	17. Chapter 17

One week later, I was sitting at home when my phone rang, making my jump out of my skin.  
"H-hello?" I answered, gulping heavily.  
"Hello, this is the hospital, Melanie speaking. Is this Mason Daws?" the woman on the other end of the line answered.  
"Y-yes this is he. Is everything alright?" I asked.  
"I'm calling to tell you that your mother has requested to spend her final few weeks at home with you, your father and your brother." she explained. I nodded though she couldn't see me. "I have tried to contact your father but he hasn't been answering, so would you or he be able to come and collect her from the hospital tomorrow afternoon?" she asked.  
"Y-yeah, of course."  
As planned, I drove to the hospital the following day. I had no idea how I was supposed to break it to my dying mother that my father was dead and I had no intention of doing so either. I had to bring Matthew with me and make him promise not to tell mom about dad's 'business trip'.  
Nervous and wary, I asked Noah to come along too. He sat in the front with me and Matthew sat in the back, leaving an empty seat for mom. We pulled up to the hospital and collected her, Noah and I helping her into the back beside Matthew. She looked so weak, frail, ill.  
"So, how is everyone?" she asked, in a croaky voice, as we drove away from the hospital entrance. It was a bright day and the sun was out, however it was pouring it down with rain.  
"I'm good." I mumbled, trying to do my best on concentrating on driving.  
"That's good, how are you Noah?" my mom smiled, weakly.  
"I'm ok thank you, Mrs Daws. I'm so sorry you're ill though. I always loved you like you were my own mother." he sighed.  
My mom looked like she could've cried when he said that. She put her palm over her chest where her heart was. "Aw, Noah..." she cooed. "...I love you like you're my own."  
"And how's my favourite little munchkin?" my mom pinched Matthew's cheek.  
"I'm ok, momma. I'm sad you've got to go though." he pouted.  
At that moment, it was like I could hear my mom's heart break in two. She didn't respond. I don't think she knew how to.  
"But!" Matthew spoke up again. Noah turned in his seat to look at him, my mom faced him and I looked at him through the rear-view mirror. "You're a wonderful mommy. So you're gonna make a great angel!" he beamed, hugging her, softly. Through the mirror, I noticed a tear slip down my mom's cheek as she hugged him back. I bit my lip and refocused my eyes on the road.  
"How's your father?" my mom asked after a short while. "I haven't spoke to him in a while, I was beginning to get worried." she added.  
"Daddy's fine!" Matthew beamed. I breathed a sigh of relief that he'd gone along with the lie and not mentioned the fake business trip. I was lucky I had a smart kid for a brother.  
We drove a little while in comfortable silence, minus the awkward radio station in the background. The hospital was about a half an hour drive from our house, not counting traffic time. Around 15 minutes away from our house, we were passing a high-up bridge that over looked a large body of water. It was a beautiful place that I always enjoyed driving over. I was around 2/3 minutes away from driving over it, but it wasn't quite in sight yet. Matthew jolted up in his seat.  
"N-no!" he cried out. "No, Mason!"  
"What?!" my mom panicked. "W-what's wrong baby?!"  
My mom and Noah begun to panic, whilst I tried to remain calm and drive cooly, but Matthew just started kicking and screaming, his face turning read and tears welling in his big eyes.  
"Matt, what's wrong kid?!" Noah asked, turning back to face him.  
"Mason, don't do it! D-don't do it! Please! Please, I'm begging you!" he screamed and cried.  
"I'm not doing anything." I growled calmly, through gritted teeth.  
"What is going on?!" my mom almost screamed.  
"Shut up." I said, subconsciously.  
My brother drew in a large breath and screamed at the top of his young lungs. "MASON!"


	18. Chapter 18

When I woke up, I was choking hurrendously, soaking wet and out of breath. I was sitting down on the ground and I leant over to choke as some water came up and landed on the floor beside me. I had a blanket draped around my shoulders which was thin and soft and I'd never seen it before.  
I exhaled, deeply, after choking and wiped my mouth on the back of my sleeve. I blinked rapidly and rubbed my eyes with my fingers, trying to process what was going on. I looked around and stood before me was Noah.  
"What the fuck is wrong with you?"  
I blinked at him. I didn't know what to say because I didn't know what was going on or where anyone was or how I'd just woken up on the side of the road.  
"W-what do you mean?" I choked out, water in my throat still making my voice come out funny.  
"The fuck you mean what do I mean? Your brother started freaking out because he said he could hear you saying things that your mom and I couldn't hear. He started screaming and crying and begged you to stop the car then you... drove it over the bridge and into the water." Noah explained. "You're a monster..." he whimpered. "...why would you do that?" his question came out as a whisper and I could hear the genuine emotion in his voice.  
"I-I..." I was totally lost for words. I genuinely had no idea how to respond. "W-where are they?" I scrambled to my feet, my legs wobbly. "Where are they?! M-my mom and brother?!" I began to panic, grabbing Noah’s collar and shaking him a little.  
He shook me off of him and adjusted his jacket again. "You fucking killed them, you sick fuck." he said, monotonously, his features filled with hatred and disgust. "How could you...?" his bottom lip wobbled, his eyebrows were furrowed and his eyes welled up. "...how... fucking... could you?"  
I extended my hand to touch his arm. "Noah, I-"  
"Fuck you." he slapped my hand away and shook his head, his disgusted expression looking me from head to toe. "I don't know why I even saved you."  
My eyes felt heavy and as soon as I blinked, tears started falling, streaming. I watched, hopelessly, as Noah walked slowly away, limping slightly and lighting a cigarette. He too was soaking wet and had obviously only been able to save me after the car went over the bridge. I appreciated him for that but he was right, he shouldn't have saved me.  
I stumbled back, crying harder at the thought of having no-one, and tripped, falling on my ass. I just sat there. On the road side. Soaking wet. Freezing cold. Hopelessly hopeless.  
I noticed a piece of metal on the ground that must've fallen off of a car or a scrap metal van. I held it up and examined it in the light. Then without a second thought, I dug it into my arm as deep as possible and dragged it along. Blood quickly formed, then dropped, then poured and I drank as much as I could.  
I'd given up. I'd totally given up. Whatever had dominated my mind had won and I had no chance of ever regaining any form of stability ever again. I accepted this fate.  
I stood on the bridge, looking over the blue water which was tinged green. It was windy but my hair didn't move much due being matted together with water, sweat and blood. I inhaled deeply, not letting the breath go and closed my eyes. Then I fell. Dropped. Calmly, slowly, peacefully. I just learnt forward and allowed myself to freefall straight down into the water where my mom and brother's bodies were.


	19. Chapter 19

I woke up in bed.  
Fuck.  
Why am I not dead?  
I jumped off a bridge, for fucksakes.  
It wasn't my own bed I awoke in though. I'd no idea where I was. I sat up and a sharp pain shot through my legs and up to the bottom of my back. I looked around and couldn't work out where I was. The room was small, like a box, and painted off-white everywhere. The floor was carpeted and light grey. There was a small table beside the bed which was wooden and white and had a grey lamp on top of it. This room was really monotonous in colour. Beside the lamp was a small glass of water and several coloured pills. On the opposite side of the bed to the table was a large window which was probably 4 metres long and 2 metres wide, with white satin curtains draped down either side.  
Just as I was about to step out of bed and find out what the fuck was going on, the door knob jiggled and the door opened slowly. Someone peeked through the opening and I begun to feel afraid.  
"Wh-who's there?!" I whimpered from behind the quilt as I pulled it up to my chest.  
"Oh, Mason, honey! You're awake!" the woman's voice chirped. Then, the door flew open and in walked... my mom?  
"Mom?" I whispered, my voice shaky.  
"Yes, Mase?" she smiled, walking up to the bed.  
"I-I..." I couldn't comprehend what was going on. The first thing I noticed about my mom was she looked totally different. Usually she'd have her short brown hair straightened or tied back in a neat bun and she'd be wearing a pastel or dark coloured cardigan with blue or black jeans - that was just her style. But instead, she had light blonde hair which was almost white and she was wearing a long white dress which flowed around her ankles. She wasn't wearing shoes or socks and she had her toes painted to match her fingers.  
"Is something wrong, sweetie?" she asked, gently, stepping forward and pressing the back of her hand against my forehead. Her hand was cold - freezing in fact - and didn't feel like a natural temperature for a human.  
"I-I... I thought you... you were dead..." I whispered, gulping down the lump in my throat.  
She tittered, then giggled, then chuckled, then laughed and eventually cackled.  
"Wh-what's funny, mom?" I asked, but she just continued to laugh, hysterically. "Mom, you're scaring me!" I yelled, quivering behind the quilt again.  
She silenced herself, suddenly. I watched her as she began dancing, elegantly, around the room. I never knew she could dance like that. She outstretched her arms and positioned them as if she was holding someone's hand and she had her other on their shoulder. But no-one was there. I blinked rapidly and rubbed my eyes, trying to process what the fuck was going on.  
When I opened my eyes back up, my dad was there. He was dancing with my mom. My mom had her hand on my dad’s shoulder and he held his hand on her waist. Their other hands were intertwined. I watched, cluelessly, as they danced around the tiny room, no music even playing.  
I squeezed my eyes, tightly, hoping they would go away. But when I opened them again, my mom was standing on the window ledge, holding the curtains as if they were fashion over her arms. She stared out to wherever the window showed and didn't speak.  
She turned around to face me and locked her eyes upon mine. "It's your fault, Mason..." she said in a sing-songy whisper.  
I pressed my lips together and shook my head, slowly, tears threatening to fall. "No..." I whimpered, as one tear slipped down my cheek.  
"Yes." she snapped, in a deeper voice. I jolted back in shock. She cackled again, turning her back to me. "Your fault... your fault... your fault..." she sung in an angelic voice, still singing as she pushed her toes over the ledge, allowing herself to slowly fall.  
"NO!" I screamed, rushing to get out of bed but instead falling on the floor. I scrambled up and my dad had gone. I didn't dare leave the room. I didn't know where I was and I just witnessed my who-I-thought-was-dead mother kill herself. My bottom lip trembled and I clambered back into bed, worriedly.  
I looked to the left of me to make sure I was alone. Nothing. I looked to the right of me and my dads face was inches away from mine. "Boo." he said, blankly.  
I yelled out in fear and could've sworn I hurt my own ears.  
"Wh-what the fuck is going on?!" I screamed, tears screaming from my face as he backed away from the bed. He smirked at me. I didn't understand. His hair too was almost white and he was wearing a black suit with a white shirt and shoes. His expression was now blank and I noticed his hand dive into his pocket. He pulled it out slowly and suspensefully and in his hand was a shiny, silver gun.  
I gulped really loudly. "Now, dad..." I tried to remain calm but I had never been so scared. "...l-listen to me." I held my hands up defensively as he smiled at the gun, running his fingertips up and down it.  
"Shut up." he demanded. I immediately shut my mouth and clenched my teeth.  
"Murderer..." he whispered, lifting the gun in what appeared to be slow motion. "Murderer... murderer... murderer..." he kept repeating it and it got louder every single time. "Murderer... murderer..." as he lifted the gun it got closer and closer to his head, until eventually, it was pointed to his temple. "MURDERER!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, pulling the trigger.  
I screamed, shouted, panicked, cried, you name it. I stared at the blood-stained white walls and brain-stained grey carpet in shock and dismay. I bent over the side of the bed and threw up at least 4 times. I sat up and wiped my mouth on the back of my wrist, just as footsteps could be heard outside of the door...


	20. Chapter 20

After what felt like hours of hearing approaching footsteps, two people walked in. The tall girl was wearing a white dress similar to my mom's and the young boy was wearing a black and white suit similar to my dad’s.  
"M-Matthew? S-Samantha?" my words were shaky and I was still bawling my eyes out in fear and shock.  
"Hello, Mason..." my sister shot me a sinister smile.  
"Hi, May-May..." Matthew gave a creepy smile too, which I didn't think was possible from him.  
"Guys, wh-what's going on? I-I thought y-you were all d-dead..." I whimpered.  
They walked over to me, Samantha round the left side of the bed, Matthew the right, and begun circling the entire bed because it wasn't pushed against the wall. They walked in circles in opposite directions about seven times before speaking again.  
"You're my brother, right?" Samantha asked, keeping her eyes forward as she walked and not making eye contact.  
"Y-yes..." I stammered.  
"So, we are genetically alike, right?" she said. Her voice was very monotone and when I noticed it, I realised my parents' voices had been too.  
"Y-yes?" I didn't know what she was trying to say but I was too afraid to be bothered as I noticed he large knife protruding from behind her back.  
"So essentially, I am you..." she finished. "...I am you. I am you. I am you. I am you..." she repeated it over and over and didn't stop as she slashed open her wrists.  
"Stop!" I covered my ears. "Stop, Samantha! Stop!" I cried. But she didn't stop.  
Then Matthew started speaking. "Look what you did." he said, in the same monotone as my sister, keeping his eyes forward and not looking at me. "Look what you did. Look what you did. Look what you did..." he repeated over and over again as Samantha kept repeating her line.  
"Stop! Stop! STOP!" I yelled as loudly as I possibly could, my hands over my ears and my eyes squeezed shut.  
Silence fell. I opened my eyes, removed my hands and looked up. They'd gone. I was alone. Once again.  
"Scared?"  
I knew that monotone voice anywhere.  
"Y-yes..." I admitted.  
"I thought so." the voice responded.  
"Where am I? Can you help me?" I begged.  
The voice chuckled. "I'm you. How can you help yourself?"  
"How have I just made myself sound like an idiot." I tssked.  
"You are a danger to yourself." the voice said.  
"I-I know..." I mumbled.  
"You are a danger to yourself. You are a danger to yourself. You are a danger to yourself." the voice started repeating itself over and over.  
"I-I, s-stop! Stop it!" I screamed but there was no use because the voice was in my head.  
"STOP!" I jumped out of bed and rushed over to the window, yanking it open. "Keep repeating it and I'll jump!" I threatened... myself.  
"You are a danger to yourself." it said again. "You are a danger to yourself."  
I stood on the ledge, my knees weak, and tried to jump but couldn't. It's not like I couldn't bring myself to do it, it's the fact my feet were just stuck there. I forced myself as hard as I could and eventually fell, landing... in the same bed.  
"What the fuck!" I screamed, punching the bed and crying.  
I lay down, staring at the ceiling as I cried and cried and cried. I rolled onto my side and someone was laying beside me. I jumped out of the bed so quickly I could've set a record. The person had their back to me and they had really tight light blonde curls.  
They turned over and it was Amarah. She looked really healthy and nothing like she did when I saw her... die.  
She got out of bed and walked over to me, getting me in a corner so my back was up against the wall. She moved so her face was inches away from mine. I looked down, trying to avoid her intimidating facial expression and something caught my eye. Just like my sister and mom, she was wearing a white dress - but there was a huge red blood stain covering the majority of the bottom half, below her stomach.  
"Look what you did to me, Stan." she said in a blank tone. I tore my eyes away from the blood and dared to look her in her eyes. "You're a psychopath... a killer..." she moved closer and her nose almost brushed against mine. "...a murderer." she whispered, sending shivers down my spine. "You think you know yourself but you're like a stranger to yourself. You don't know how fucked up you are or how many people you've killed. If you carry on like this, the whole town will soon be dead..." she said. I was lost for words. "The whole town will soon be dead. The whole town will soon be dead. The whole town will soon be dead." she said it over and over again until I lost control and pushed her backwards, but this didn't stop her from repeating that same fucking line over and over.  
I yelled in frustration and spun around so my back was to her and punched the wall at full force. I broke my knuckle instantly. I winced in pain and noticed Amarah's chanting had stopped. I turned back around, slowly, and she was lying on the bed, a blood stain between her legs and her wrists restrained to the bed post. I couldn't even look at her knowing that was how I'd left her. I looked around and noticed someone was sitting in the corner opposite me in the room. They were sat with their back to me and it looked as if they had their knees drawn up to their chest. They were rocking back and forth.  
I walked over as slowly as possible, my bottom lip quivering in fear and uncertainty. When I eventually got right behind them, I still couldn't make out who it was. They wore a huge, white fur coat with a large fur hood on it which was pulled over their head. They begun to rock faster and faster, back and forth. I extended my shaky hand to touch them but just as I was millimetres away, they spun around at supersonic speed and revealed their face to me.  
I jumped back in shock to see it was Carter. He was pale and his mouth was bloody. The popped open stitches were around his mouth and dry blood stained his pale face. He grinned at me, exposing his bloody white teeth, then stood up.  
"This is all your fault. Kill yourself before it's too late. Kill yourself before it's too late. Kill yourself before it's too late. Kill yourself before it's too late! KILL YOURSELF BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE!!" he shouted louder and louder each time he said it. Then suddenly, he had a large kitchen knife in his hand with a huge silver blade. He placed it to his throat and stared me directly in my eyes as he dragged the metal across his skin, slitting his own throat before my very eyes. Then, he collapsed on the floor and twitched, before laying still.  
As I stared at Carter’s lifeless body before me, I bent down. I reached out slowly and brushed my fingers against his throat. I could smell his blood. I subconsciously brought said finger to my mouth and sucked the blood off of it. I squeezed my eyes shut, unable to look for any longer. I sighed a shaky breath, running my fingers through my tousled hair as I stood back up and turned my back to Carter’s body.  
Right there in front of me was my final victim. I looked at her. She was beautiful. She had pale skin, light grey hair and sparkly green eyes. She wore a flowy white dress and she was slim with a nice figure. She stared at me. I stared at her.  
"I loved you, Lila..." I pressed my lips together as tears started falling. "I really... really did..."


	21. Chapter 21

Before she could reply, an aggressive knock came at the door, interrupting our conversation. I turned to look at the door, then turned back to look at Lila. She was gone. I jumped a little in shock and stepped, cautiously, toward the door. The knocking continued and got louder and more aggressive as it went on.  
"Wh-who's there?!" I yelled.  
"Police! Open up!" the deep voice boomed.  
Why was they knocking at a bedroom door with no lock on it? I brought my shaky hand toward the door knob and gripped it. I took a deep breath and twisting it, pulling the door towards me. And sure enough, there stood two officers.  
They both stared at me for a moment, eyeing me from head to toe. "Mason Daws?" the one on the left raised an eyebrow.  
"Y-yes?" I gulped.  
"You're under arrest for suspicion of murder of ten people. in town" the one on the right said. Before I could question or object, they both charged towards me and pulled my wrists behind my back before cuffing them.  
"You are now in our custody. Anything you say can and will be used against you." one of them said.  
But I had no words. I didn't know where I was.  
I didn't know how I'd just encountered seven people I knew full well were dead then watched almost half of them kill themselves... again?  
I didn't know why I was being arrested for supposedly murdering ten.  
But most of all... I didn't know who I was anymore.  
"Get the fuck off me!" I suddenly panicked, kicking and fighting against the officers. I must've been tougher than I thought because I was doing well fighting off two officers on my own. But when they got mad because I headbutted one and bit a chunk out of the others hand, I took a punch to the face which knocked out my tooth. Blood poured from my gum but they were focussed on arresting me and trying to get me to obey.  
After waiting for an hour in a holding cell, I was taken into a large - predominantly empty - room with a small table in the middle, two chairs either side. I was lead toward one chair by an officer, my wrists still cuffed. The officer left and another man walked in and sat in the chair opposite me.  
"Hello there." he nodded. "My name's Detective Leroy." he said. I didn't respond. "Do you know why you're here?"  
"I'm a murderer, rapist and... vampire, you could say." I said, without even thinking about it, chuckling at my little joke about drinking blood.  
He blinked in disbelief, clearly quite taken aback by my abrupt statement. I stared at him, I hadn't taken my eyes off of him since he entered the room.  
"R-right..." he cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable, holding some paperwork in front of him. "Who is Samantha Daws?" he asked.  
"My late sister." I was getting worried because my words were coming out without me thinking about it at all. It was like I was possessed because I didn't feel as if I was the one speaking.  
He nodded. "And what can you tell me about the death of Samantha Daws?"  
My eyes still hadn't moved from his even when he broke eye contact. I just couldn't tear my stare away no matter how hard I tried.  
"It was my doing." I said. Though I was now fully aware this was not me.  
"It was?" he seemed surprise as he wrote something down.  
I nodded. "Yes."  
"What did you do to her?" he asked, showing his interest.  
"I cut her up into pieces, severed her head and drank some of her blood." I said, monotonously.  
"Why?"  
"Why not?"  
"Murder is wrong."  
"So are drugs. So is rape. So is adultery. So is war. So is racism. So is abuse. So is terrorism." I listed, surprised at myself. "Look the fuck around you. Look what kinda sick ass world we live in where we rape, abuse, torture and kill one another and take substances which fuck us up and go to war for no reason and terrorise one another to get what we want. This is just a fucked up world which consists of fucked up people..." I leant forward over the table, my hands still in restraints and whispered, "...I'm just one of many."  
"W-wow." the detective blinked at me, clearly stunned for words. I was too in honesty, but I couldn't show it because my body was working on its own, including my mouth.  
"What can you tell me about Carter Lawson and Lila Pickens? Who were they to you?"  
"My best-friend of 10 years and my girlfriend of 5." I said.  
"Did you kill them?"  
"Yes, I did."  
"When?"  
"A while back."  
"How long ago?"  
"Well, I dunno but I saw them about an hour ago."  
"What? How?"  
"In that bedroom the cops found me in. Everyone I murdered came to visit me and torture me."  
"What bedroom? You were found in a warehouse drinking the blood of nine dead people..."  
I was stunned. But he changed the subject before I could try and process what he was talking about.  
"Why'd you kill them?" he raised an eyebrow.  
I slouched back in my chair like a bored teen in a high school class and shrugged. "Why not?"  
The detective shook his head in disapproval. "You can't just go round murdering people whenever you feel like it!" he cried out.  
"Well I did. So, yes I can." I smirked and shrugged.  
He sighed and shook his head, reaching for his glass of water before him. He took a sip of it. "You know, you're gonna be locked up for a very long-"  
He was cut off when he began choking violently. He coughed so hard I was surprised a lung didn't come flying out. Suddenly, he fell off his chair and collapsed on the floor, not moving. I looked at his limp body and smirked, looking away casually.  
Two officers ran in and bent down beside him. One checked his pulse whilst the other turned to look at me. "What happened?!" she cried.  
I shrugged, innocently. "I'm not sure." I batted my eyelashes. "He just choked on his drink."  
She stood up and narrowed her eyes, moving her face closer to mine as she stared into my eyes. She opened her mouth to speak and I took this opportunity to spit in her face. She gasped and heaved in disgust. "You're coming with me right now!" she yelled, grabbing my still restrained arm and dragging me out of the interrogation room.


	22. Chapter 22

I sat in the police station with nothing to do. The officer who was checking Detective Leroy's pulse approached me.  
"You're going to be in here a long while." he informed. I didn't respond. "Why did you do it?" he asked after a prolonged silence.  
I looked up at him, slouched back in the seat as he stood before me. I ran my tongue along my bottom lip and chuckled, lightly, shaking my head and averting my gaze to the floor. I exhaled deeply. "Guess I was just... too happy."  
He furrowed his eyebrows. "What's that supposed to mean?"  
"It means I wanted a life where everyone around me suffered. When I saw it wasn't gonna happen I guess I just figured killing them would make it easier." I shrugged with a casual smile.  
He looked worried but somewhat fascinated.  
"But I did a lot of my killings in my sleep." I added. His eyes widened. "I don't know who the other three supposedly are." I admitted. "I only know about my mom, dad, brother, sister, bestfriend, girlfriend and girlfriends bestfriend." I listed.  
"I have a list of victim names." the officer informed in a low voice.  
I sat up, intrigued. "You do, do you?" I raised an eyebrow.  
He nodded. "Keep quiet though. I'll be back in a moment." then he disappeared, leaving me in my small cell. He returned quickly with a large notebook.  
"Marsh, right?" he asked. I nodded.  
"Ok so here I have Carter Lawson, Gladys Lawson, Sharon and Kevin Daws – who I presume are your parents - Matthew and Samantha-May Daws – whom I also presume are relatives – Noah S Ryder, Amarah Taylor, April Pickens and Lila Pickens." he listed.  
"I did not murder Gladys, Noah or April." I admitted to him.  
"Who are they?" he asked.  
"Gladys is Carter’s mom, Noah was one of my other best-friends along with Carter and April is Lila’s mom." I tapped my chin.  
"Are they logical murders?" he asked.  
I nodded. "I guess so. Gladys rang me the night I killed Carter asking me tons of questions so I must've done it that night in my sleep." I shrugged. "Noah must've died in... the..." I trailed off, pieces fitting together a little more now. "...car crash." I breathed. "But how is that possible when we had a conversation on the bridge and he said he saved my life?" I almost whispered to myself.  
The officer heard me though. "In fairness kid, your mind's in a fucked up place. You thought you were in a bedroom when you were in a warehouse and you killed people in your sleep without knowing. You probably didn't speak to him he more than likely did die in the crash." he said.  
I nodded. He was right. I was fucked up.  
"But if he died in a car crash why's that murder?" he asked me.  
"Because I drove the car over a bridge into a body of water." I explained, casually.  
He widened his eyes. "Really? Who was in the car?"  
"Noah and I, my dying mom and 6-year-old brother."  
"Oh my gosh."  
I nodded.  
"You're a real... interesting kid. Hella fucked up though, you'll probably go down for life." the officer said, honestly.  
I nodded again. "It'll give me time to... reflect upon my actions."  
Now, here I am - sitting in the police station, my hair all matted and bloody, my arms covered in bruises, cuts and grazes, a missing tooth with a mouth full of blood and my wrists in handcuffs. I'm Mason Daws and I'm an 18 year old homicidal maniac with a literal thirst for blood. And this… was my story.


End file.
